- The morning of the last training day arrives with a deceptive peace. The sun shines with a brilliant, golden, warmth, and the weather is as calm as a sleeping baby. Yet, high above, some heavy black clouds roam across the sky -

  - Inside the house. Retsu stands in the kitchen, her mind drifting as she washes the morning dishes. Her hand reaches for a simple glass cup but as her fingers graze it -

  - The glass slips, shattering against the floor with a sharp, dissonant ring that echoes through the kitchen -

  - She doesn't move to pick up the shards. She stands frozen, her breath hitching as she looks down at the broken glass, then slowly turns her gaze toward the window in the east -

  Retsu: — Her face tightens with deep concern. She slowly curls her hand into a trembling fist—"Something... something terrible is coming!"

  - Shifting to Ryusui, his footsteps hammer down the stairs. Today, his sword doesn't hang loosely across his back; it is cinched tight to his waist. He reaches the threshold of the main door and calls out, his voice cutting through the house -

  Ryusui: — The tone is calm, yet it carries a resonance that seems to vibrate through the walls, snapping Retsu out of her trance — "Retsu... I am going. See you later."

  - Ryusui's voice sends a jolt of panic through Retsu. Her heart skips a beat as she snatches a cloth-wrapper box from the counter. Desperately dodging the glittering shards of glass on the kitchen floor, she rushes into the hallway -

  Retsu: "Hey... hey... wait! Take this with you."

  Ryusui: — A charming smirk takes its place on his face — "Thank you for the food."

  Retsu: — She quickly looks away, a deep rosy hue appearing on her cheeks —"There is no need for it."

  Ryusui: — Giving a casual wave of his hand, he turns his back toward the threshold and steps out into the warm, morning air — "See ya."

  - Ryusui reaches the heart of the clearing and pauses. He stands alone in the centre of the flattened grass. He looks around, but the clearing is hollow. A ghostly wind slashes through the air, biting at his exposed skin and whistling a low tune against his ears -

  Ryusui: — He calls out, his voice cracking the stillness and echoing off the trees —"Sensei... are you here?!"

  - The dead silence is disturbed by a dry, rasping sound that cuts through the wind from directly behind him -

  The old man: — He emerges slowly from the gloom of the treeline —"Cough... Cough... Look behind you, young man."

  Ryusui: — He looks toward the old man, a confident smirk playing on his lips — "Sensei..."

  The old man: — He leans heavily against an ancient tree, shifting his weight as if his body is becoming too light for the earth —"Are you ready for the final phase?"

  Ryusui: "I am completely prepared. What do I do now?"

  The old man: "Did you practice yesterday?"

  Ryusui: "Yeah, Sensei. The light is bigger now. But I have a question... while I was practicing, I saw the shape of my whole body, and there were some glowing lines... wrapping around me."

  The old man: — He takes a slow, labored step toward Ryusui — "That's good. It makes today's topic much easier."

  Ryusui: — He places a hand on his chin, confusion contorting his features — "What does it mean?!"

  The old man: "Cough... Cough... those lines are called Spirit Veins. They are sending Spirit Energy from your soul into your blood vessels. You might have felt something new after reaching this stage."

  Ryusui: "Yeah, you are right. After the lines appeared and I moved toward the light, I felt a strange warmth."

  The old man: (Thinking: "So, your it has started taking over your soul.") "That's good. Now, for the next phase. This is the last time you need to meditate. This time, you must manipulate those lines. You must learn to control the flow and gather the energy wherever you choose."

  Ryusui: "But how?"

  The old man: "This time after closing your eyes, do not clear your mind. Instead, focus on a single point. If you want the energy in your fist, you must visualize it flowing there."

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  Ryusui: — He slowly lowers himself to the ground, crossing his legs as he settles into the dirt — "I understand. But what is the actual connection between meditation and Spirit Energy?"

  The old man: "Imagination is the master key of Spirit Energy. For a beginner, the journey begins not with physical strength, but with the eyes of the mind."

  Ryusui: "Oh... I see."

  - An hour has passed in total. Ryusui remains anchored to the earth, as still and unyielding as a stone statue. A few steps away, the old man sits in a fragile silence. Suddenly, Ryusui's voice cuts through the stillness -

  Ryusui: — His eyes remain closed, but his face suddenly brightens with a wide smile — "Sensei... I think I did it. I am feeling... a strange weight in my right fist."

  Unknown old man: (Thinking: "Wonderful, Master. Your soul is remembering the shape of what you once were.) — He pushes himself up from the dirt, his movements slow as he moves toward Ryusui. His eyes are locked onto the boy's face with a fierce intensity — "If you gather a great amount of Spirit Energy in one spot, you can use it as a shield. Furthermore, by focusing that energy into your feet and releasing it in a single burst... you can transcend the limits of a human leap."

  Ryusui: — His eyes snap open. His face glows with raw excitement — "Whoa..."

  The old man: — He points a finger toward the same ancient tree they used yesterday — "Now... try again. Break this tree."

  Ryusui: — The boyish excitement in his eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a cold, sharpened confidence — "Alright, Sensei."

  - Ryusui approaches the tree. He stops, taking a deep, heavy breath. He plants his feet deep into the earth. He clenches his right fist until his knuckles turn white, but he isn't thinking about muscle or bone. He visualizes the Spirit Energy gathering into his arm -

  - With a sharp, explosive exhale, he slams his fist into the centre of the trunk -

  - For a heartbeat, the world goes silent. The tree stands perfectly still—no sway, no rustle of leaves. Then, the wood beneath his knuckles groans. Cracks spider-web outward from the impact point, and a jagged, uneven hole erupts through the core of the trunk. With a roar of bursting wood, the upper half of the tree loses its fight against gravity and crashes to the forest floor -

  - The rush of air from the falling oak catches the old man's hair, whipping it back from his forehead. For a single, agonizing heartbeat, his withered face flickers like a dying lantern, revealing for an instant the sharp, terrifyingly handsome features of a warrior long past -

  The old man: — His eyes widen, and a rare, genuine smile breaks across his face — "Wonderful job, Mas—... young man."

  Ryusui: — He looks toward the old man, his chest heaving but his spirit soaring — "Yeahhh... I did it, Sensei..."

  The old man: — Before Ryusui can process the slip of the tongue or the sudden youth in those eyes, the old man pulls the cowl low. The warmth vanishes, replaced instantly by his usual cold, piercing mask — "So, that's it for me. I have to go now. I have left an important task at my house."

  Ryusui: — A sudden, deep pang of sorrow cuts through his triumph — "We will meet again... right, Sensei?"

  The old man: — He continues walking, passing by Ryusui — "Maybe in the future."

  - The old man's footsteps making no sound on the flattened grass as he walks toward the shadows of the woods. Defying his loud and curious character, Ryusui stands in absolute silence watching the old man walk away -

  The old man: — Just before the darkness of the woods swallows him, he stops. He doesn't look back but his voice—crystal clear and commanding—carries perfectly through the clearing — "Don't forget to do it with your sword." — He weaves his hand in a casual, final wave as he vanishes into the woods — "Goodbye."

  - Eight hours bled away into the cycle of the day. Now, the sun now clings to the jagged edge of the horizon -

  - Ryusui stands in the centre of the training spot, his body a map of exhaustive labor. He is bathed in sweat, his clothes plastered to his frame, and every muscle fiber vibrates with the aftershocks of his practice. Yet, his posture is not that of a boy on the verge of collapse -

  - He remains rooted there, his gaze locked onto the dense wall of trees where the old man vanished. -

  Ryusui: — He wipes a thick smear of grit and sweat from his brow — "Today... it felt like we had known each other for a long time."

  - Ryusui turns his back on the clearing and begins the slow, heavy walk toward his house. Behind him, the forest floor is a graveyard of his progress: twenty to twenty-five massive oaks lay splintered and leveled -

  Ryusui: — Before leaving the clearing, he pauses to look back one last time. His voice is steady, echoing with a newfound, profound maturity —"Thanks for everything, Sensei."

  - The walk home is a quiet one, filled only by the rhythmic, deep breathing of a body pushed to its absolute limit. The forest is settling into a heavy, twilight hush, and as he approaches the threshold of his house, he sees Retsu standing at the main door -

  Retsu: — Her voice is low, steady, and devoid of the worry that usually colors her words —"Welcome home."

  Ryusui: — He meets her gaze, and the cold, sharpened edge of the warrior he had been hours ago softens — "I'm home."

  - The next day, Ryusui stands outside his house as the afternoon sky curdles into a bruised, heavy black. The wind screams across the clearing, whipping the tall grass into a frenzy and tugging at his clothes, but he stands rooted, a calm anchor in the center of the rising gale. His sword remains sheathed at his waist, his hand hovering mere millimeters from the hilt -

  - From the shifting shadows of the woods, two figures emerge. They do not walk so much as glide, their presence leaching the warmth from the air -

  - Kinjo steps forward first, his eyes locked on Ryusui with a predatory hunger. His right hand is encased in a crimson-red guard -

  - Kanjo follows, moving with a jagged, unnatural fluidity. On his left hand, a green guard hums with a sickly luminescence -

  Kinjo: — His voice is deep and heavy carrying the unnatural resonance of an ancient, hollow being — "Kanjo, tell Your Majesty we are in Ryuma Yamamoto's place."

  Kanjo: — His voice is a dry, raspy scrape — "Roger."

  Ryusui: — His eyes narrow, his pulse steadying as his fingers clamp around the hilt of his sword —(Thinking: "Who are they, actually? They are nowhere near a human being.") "I don't know who you are calling Ryuma, but your presence is a rot on the air. If you wish to leave here intact, turn around and leave now."

  - Kinjo and Kanjo’s eyes sharpen, lines of genuine fury etched into their faces. They launch themselves forward in a single, earth-shattering burst, the ground trembling and splintering beneath their feet as stones are blown away by the sheer force of their momentum. -

  Kinjo: — A void sword, its edges rippling like a distorted wave, manifests in his right hand as he charges — "You f*** r*****!"

  Kanjo: — A Compliant Golden-Hooped void rod tears through reality, materializing in his right hand as he charges —

  Ryusui: — He meets their onslaught head-on, his body a blur of motion as he tears his blade from the scabbard with a deafening ring of steel — "Bring it on, you monsters!"

  - The impact is thunderous. Ryusui braces his feet and catches both weapons on the diagonal slant of his blade. The steel groans under the pressure, shedding a rain of white-hot sparks that dance between them like dying stars as he holds his ground against their combined might -

  [ The weapons that were never meant to meet have finally collided ]

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